Nocturnal Artist

When I draw, I get so focused on my work that it becomes impossible to critique it clearly. By either using a mirror, or taking a photo of the work, you can see your work from a new viewer's perspective. I made this .gif from those photos:

My room was a time capsule.
I invited the cat in,
and latched that antique door.
Two loves sat on the bed,
one with dilated green eyes,
and one with a guitar in hands.
They said we would be cast through space,
scaling the stars
in a dizzying fashion.
The room was still.
Preserved on the 28th.
I questioned
the position
of every object.
The medicine on the floor,
the sideways bottle,
the crooked books on the shelf.
I couldn't imagine
a shifting speck
of dirt,
or drinking the rest of my coffee.
We were just three humans and a cat, surrounded by walls and statues.

The word "courage" stems from the Latin word for heart: "cor". "Age" comes from the Latin suffix "aticum", which can indicate action, collection, state of being...

Courage is acting from the heart, or even just the state of having heart. I like that.

Brainsick adj: Mentally disordered.

Brassica n: Plants from the genus Brassica, such as broccoli, cabbage, and mustard.

In my mind I always knew
I didn't have much for looks.
Rather than catching young men's eyes,
I turned my own to books.

Though art and thought occupied my time,
I grew increasingly jealous
of girls who never read a line,
but were still upheld desirous.

With later age
my body changed
my acne-marked face cleared up.
Frazzled hair became soft and tame,
and those books I soon forgot.

Now I've known lust a thousand times,
and with more partners than I care to name,
but I owe all love to my intelligence,
not the beauty I became.

We don't always like what we put on the page. Understatement. The inadequacy can be shameful, disgusting, and painful. Some days, I don't keep more than a phrase. The brushwork seems sloppy, and the proportions are off. I have thrown away paintings and whole journals without regret.

Some amateur artists feel deeply astonished by their own work. They step back to admire their blocky monotone watercolor with great pride, or ramble about the wittiness of their dialogue while readers search desperately for positive things to say.

While constantly feeling that your work doesn't measure up is frustrating, the ability to criticize your own work is a gift. It drives advancement, because the voice that says "That's not good enough." is the same one that says "I can do better."

Sometimes you've got to produce a whole lot of crap before feeling satisfied- and that makes it even more rewarding.